Plan if you can!

Best. Weekend. Ever!

It was relaxing, fun and exciting all rolled into one! My husband and I haven’t laughed so much in months. We went to North Shore and gambled just a little, we went to South Shore and rode the gondola to the top of a mountain; we stopped at every turn off to enjoy the view, took small hikes and took A MILLION pictures. And I don’t want to go into any gory details or anything, but one night…we stayed up past midnight!

The best part of all…when I checked in with my fam to see how the boys were…

DRUM ROLL PLEASE>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

They were awesome! Great numbers, no broken pumps, no ripped out sets…all was well! (Hello! Prayer works!)

I came home, and believe it or not, they were all alive!

Let this be a lesson to you! (You out there in Mommy D-Blog Land…) If I can get away and my children live…you are THREE TIMES MORE LIKELY to have an equally positive result.

So plan if you can! Because it is well worth it! Yes, you will have a meltdown before you leave, and yes, the first 24 hours won’t 100% count because you’ll be filled with guilt and anxiety…but after that, you will find a peace that will fortify your soul.

One last thing…

If you do get away…

And you feel relaxed and happy…

When you come home…Don’t think that you’ll have this whole new appreciation for your life, and that diabetes will suck less…because that just doesn’t happen. You will come home and everything will return to pretty much the same ol’ same ol’ as when you left. Sure, the first few days you will have a tad more patience and understanding…but the afterglow doesn’t last long. This is a lesson I have learned over the years and I feel as though I should pass it along. I have come home from many a trip expecting that I would look at things through rose colored glasses, but after reality sets in, this is often not the case.

I’m not saying this to be a downer, I am just sayin’…if you get away…enjoy the moment, EVERY SWEET MOMENT! If you spend your entire trip worried and filled with anxiety then it will all have been for not.

I let diabetes go for four wonderful, glorious days…and I appreciated ever single last second of it. I feel like I’m Bragity McBragton. For those of you who can’t get away right now...I feel for you…I’ve been there… Ryan and I spent a good 10 years without a break. But your time will come…and when it does…NIRVANA!

(Okay, I am totally aware of the fact that I overuse these…, (dot, dot, dot.) I can’t stop using them…and I am starting to annoy myself with it…in fact I am certain I don’t even use them properly…sorry…It’s a bad habit. I would say I am going to try to stop using (…) But, I have no idea how to even begin to stop using them…I think I love them…)

Panic Attack

I'm losing it.

I am so overwhelmed with my life that I think I could cry for weeks. This kind of thing happens when you are writing out instructions about the boys schedules for the next four days.

"What? Writing out your schedule?" you ask.

My husband and I are SUPPOSED to leave this afternoon for a relaxing/romantic/much needed vacation to a cabin in Lake Tahoe. Four days of quiet. Four days of regrouping. I have family staying with the boys, and they are totally smart about what the boys need...but I'm having a panic attack.

Two field trips tomorrow, soccer, birthday parties, HOMECOMING parades, games and dances. This is just a sampling of what is going on this weekend. A daunting schedule for any 4 children, but 4 children that include 3 diabetics...it's lunacy!

And I'm leaving.

I have to pack now. I want to rant and worry out loud more, but if I don't get off my behind and get out of here before the kids get home from school, I might not get out of here at all until the morning...and no one wants that...not even the boys. They can't wait to PARTY with out me and my husband around.

Anyway, if you are the praying type,could you throw some prayers our way for safe boys, safe parents and a smooth weekend diabetes wise? We could use the help. Thanks. :)

The Diabetes Elevator

We have frequent flyer miles on the Diabetes Roller Coaster. Some days our blood sugar numbers fly all over the place with no rhyme or reason. Up, down, around and through tunnels of confusion we ride the coaster until one, or even all of us, just wants to throw up! Generally, we hold on tight and try to control the ride as much as possible. We try to make the steep ride up not too chilling and the drops not too frightening. We try to mold it into more of baby roller coaster. Like the kinds that they have at the county fair or at Toon Town in Disney Land.

But lately, our little L has been riding the Diabetes Elevator. His blood sugars will slowly begin to go up and, even with a correction, he’ll continue to creep up more. Kind of like, you pushed the button and now it has to go up, no matter how much you want it to go down! Slow and steady, annoying elevator music in my brain included.

When we finally get his numbers to start to go down it takes FOREVER! The elevator doors open and close painfully slow; it lets other people on, AND THEN...slowly... floor by floor, it makes its descent. It’s been a few days now and all I can say is “Get us off this elevator from hell!” I can only assume his correction ratio needs tweaking and I’ll be calling my endo and working out a plan today. But the reason I haven’t jumped on this sooner is that B has been having the same problem at night too. Between 9 and 1am they both rise, corrections and all. (After 1:00am, B’s sugars will sweetly obey the correction while L patiently rides that elevator down.) We first had to go through all the different scenarios:
Is the insulin bad?
Were the sets inserted wonky?
Have we been feeding them foods that won’t cooperate with bedtime basals?
We’ve been using the recalled sets for so long, now that we are using the new ones do they operate differently?

No, after 4 days of this, and many set changes, it seems that they are BOTH undergoing growth sprits, or some kind of change requiring basal changes and so forth. J has been my constant. His blood sugars have been a-ok.

When you have one child who is REALLY high and the other two are in range it takes the sting out a little. You can put feelings of despair aside and help the high child as much as possible. It sucks for sure, but you can’t get down too much because, look, the two others are ok...I’m not a COMPLETE failure or anything.

But when TWO are high…and one of the nights ALL THREE WERE SUPER HIGH…It makes me feel, well, I can’t really write it without swearing, but I’m sure you can just imagine.

Anyway, we’ll figure it out. We always do. I’m just sucking at being a pancreas this week and wanted to put out there that I officially hate elevators now…and roller coasters for that matter.

Give it a looksie!

Just a quick post about this FANTASTIC blog I just found.

For those of you who don't know, (which is probably everyone other than my immediate family,) I am OBSESSED with my slow cooker lately.

Throw things in it in the morning. The house smells great all day and PRESTO! Dinner is magically ready in the evening and I can still help the kids with their homework! AWESOME!

The blog is:
http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/
A Year of Slow Cooking
(Much like Julie and Julia.)

But let me tell ya the best part. Every one of her recipes are gluten free! AND she has a cookbook coming out in October. No, we are not a gluten free family, (fingers crossed, praying as I write this...) But I know many diabetic families are. So ENJOY!

Disclaimer: My apologies if this site and book are already totally blog-world-wide -known, and the fact that I have been living under a rock in my super self absorbed diabetic world kept me from the already extremely old information.

Swimming in happy. :)

I was really close to taking “happy mommy pills” once.

So. Close.

I was at the ob/gyn and I was sitting on the table in my gown, tears puddling in the corner of my eyes. I told her everything. I told her that I never felt normal, (whatever that is.) I told her that I cried at everything. That my life was uber-diabetic and that I wasn’t suicidal or anything, but my kids deserved more than they were getting. I didn’t want to be a robot mom. I didn’t want to have “bad days” anymore. I was in such a sorry state. She, in her own sweet way, told me I SO needed happy pills… but I fought it. “Maybe,” I pleaded, “maybe my hormones are off and some birth control pills would even things out.” She agreed it could be a possibility, but contended, no one would fault me if I needed a little “help.” We ultimately decided on the birth control pills and I promised I would call her if they didn’t help. I remember our conversation like it was yesterday. She so understood. She hugged me in the end and gave me a measure of empathy that just made me feel really validated.

A little catch up… I don’t NEED birth control pills for actual birth control. My husband took one for the team on that one. Another thing is we were losing our Kaiser insurance the next month and I knew I wouldn’t be able to return to this sweet doctor even if I wanted to. Also, anti-depressants scare me. I know they can help me; I absolutely, positively know it! But, I also know that SOMETIMES they make you feel worse before they make you feel better. And I am too much of a wimp to even fathom that.

So, I started the birth control pills…and vomited for a month. They made me so sick, which is so weird, because I had taken them many times before. But, by the forth week, I had to stop. And I had no doctor. So I just endured the sadness.

And it’s been a long two years since then. And I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I DID have a “little help.”

Why the TMI? A lot of information you don’t need to hear me say? Because today…for the first time in a VERY, VERY, VERY long time…

I FEEL GOOD!

REALLY, REALLY GOOD!

Not like I haven’t felt good or happy EVER, but it’s just really hard to explain.

I’m singing today. I’m so full of happiness and gratitude, and the weights that sit stubbornly on my shoulder have lightened. I FEEL different. I can’t stop talking. I am sincerely, positively, super Okay today. If I had to pick one word it would be, “light.”

I wanted to over share with you all because I think part of this happiness has to do with my connections with all of you. Yes, YOU! You, who read this. And you, who’s blogs I read. Like the sweet ob/gyn, your comments and your blogs make me feel validated. They make me understand that my feelings, my fears, and my confusion are not unfounded. Writing this blog has also helped me tremendously. It feels good to get it all down, and it forces me to look on the bright side of things.

Tomorrow? We will have to see. But I wanted to acknowledge to the world, to the heavens, that I feel amazing, and I appreciate it…even if it is for a little while.

I don’t want you to think I don’t have a good life. Au contraire mon frere, I have a GREAT life! And I have happy all around me. It’s just nice, for once, to be immersed in the happy.

Literally…swimming in happy!
:)

This just in…Aliens hate us!

What the heck!? What is happening to this world?

NO…What HAS happened to this world?

I often wonder what would happen if an alien spaceship landed on earth to observe the culture of the human race. Would they be fascinated or just utterly disgusted?

I’m pretty sure the expression on their faces would be remarkably similar to the horror struck look I had while I was watching the MTV music awards last night. (Hello, Kanye West catastrophe!)

I am also convinced that they would have echoed my, ”Oh no she didn’t!”, while watching Serena Williams threaten to shove the tennis ball down the line judges throat in the US Open yesterday. And moreover, I am most certain they would think tennis is a sport only for those with God Complex’s if they watched John Federer, hours ago, swearing to the judge that he won’t shut up and will ask a F-ing question whenever he wants to.

Why the anger people?

While driving today, I came to a four way stop, twice. Both times someone went before it was their turn. BOTH times they looked angry…muttering quiet annoyances out of the side of their mouths, hunched over, as if channeling Lemony Snicket.


The last straw was the mail man FLINGING our three packages of test strips onto the porch. I ran out and said thank you…he grunted. He didn’t look back! He didn’t even respond! Okay, I do concede that we have a history. He gave me a disheveled, ripped, almost unrecognizable package at Christmas that was filled with postage stickers. (Not the Nintendo game that I had ordered.) So yes, I hunted him down and asked him as nicely as possible to tell me what he was thinking, giving that package to me. It could have been a bomb…Well it could have! Two weeks later he didn’t take my letters out of my mailbox. The flag was up. He just shoved in my new mail and walked away. I had to hunt him down again. (I fully acknowledge that I was probably very rude to this man, will the madness ever end?!) To be fair, that is probably why he doesn’t talk to me. But rude is rude. And there was just too much of it the last 24 hours!

I am going to go out on a limb and declare that Aliens would hate us! But unfortunately, they probably wouldn’t get much of a chance to show us their disdain. We would surely shoot them down before they ever got a chance to show us their lighted fingers and ask us to phone home. We’re totally rude that way.

Friendly Fire

So the other day I yelled to the boys to check their sugars. What? You don’t do this? Sit on the couch and yell, “So and so, check your sugar!” This is a regular occurrence in our house. The dog alerts and I call in the troops. “The dog alerted, Check your sugar!” Usually the kids jump up and do it. The only complaints I get is when I ask one to check L for me sometimes. Even then it’s usually not much of a complaint, just a gentle grunt or sigh. L can check his sugar himself, but he is still shaky and doesn’t reliably clean his finger well enough for me to trust the number.

So, again, the other day I did my yell and the kids filed into their bedroom to do their checks. J was first. He came out and announced some blood sugar and then ran off to finish his video game. B did the same and began to run off when I stopped him…”B! Will you check L for me?” (Grunt…sigh…) “Okay Mom.” (They totally know better than to complain, it doesn’t get them anywhere.)

So B goes back to the bedroom where I hear this conversation take place.

B- “Give me your finger.”

(Pause)

B-“NO! This one!”

L- “NO! That’s the ouchie one, do this one.”

B-“Look at me L! I HAVE to use this one.”

L-“I told you B, that is the ouchie one!”

B-“You have no choice. I HAVE to check your sugar, and it HAS to be that one!”

This is when I heard struggling and a small shriek. I walked in to B holding L down with his pinky in his hand and L yelling, “Not he ouchie one, not the ouchie one!”

Me- “B! What on earth are you doing? Get off your brother!”

B- “Mom it’s his fault he wouldn’t let me poke his pinky!”

Me- “For cryin’ out loud B, Why do you have to use his pinky?”

B- “Because the pinky is the cleanest one, it always is.”

Me-“Why couldn’t you use an alcohol swab here and use the finger he wanted?”

B- “Mom, I know the pinky hurts, but it just hurts for ONE SECOND and I want to play my video game!”

The whole thing seemed so crazy because usually my kids are pretty mellow. I do understand that brothers will have their fights and disagreements, but to see them in combat over THIS was…I don’t know...another testament to our diabetic life. In any other household, a brother holding down a diabetic brother forcing him to let him use his pinky would be cruel and heart breaking. In our house it takes on an entire other connotation. To them, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it what so ever. I think that may be a blessing. My boys are growing up in a home where dealing with their diabetes is a normal way of life. There is no feeling “different.” There is no inclination to hide their condition. There is no poor me. We have a built in support group, for better or for worse, and that is, in my own twisted way, something I am thankful for.

P.S. B did get a little lecture of the golden rule, and I have been sure to ask B to check L only when I REALLY need him to. He is 7 after all. And also, just because M isn’t diabetic doesn’t mean he is exempt from helping out with L too. He checks L’s sugars for me as well, but not surprisingly, L prefers B or J to do it instead.

Proud Meri

Kudos to Wendy for pointing out that having three little boys with Juvenile Diabetes qualifies me as having an "Underlying Condition." I totally love that.

My little diabetics have had such a great week, I had to give a quick shout out to their wonderfulness.

In L's kindergarten class I did a little spiel about Luke's diabetes and our medical alert dog Lawton. Okay, so 90% of it was about the dog, but 5 year olds can't concentrate on words like "insulin" and "blood sugar numbers" when an adorable yellow lab is smiling right in front of them. L was amazing though. When I told them about his pump he spontaneously jumped up, took out his pump and proceeded to go up and down each line of seated children to give them an up close and personal look at his hardware. He also did this with his blood sugar monitor and with the "doggie licence" that Lawton carries around that gives us permission to take him into stores and restaurants.

J has surprisingly been very accommodating when I asked him to check L's blood sugar for me during snack recess. I asked him to do it twice so far in a week and he each time he said, "Sure Mama, consider it done." Huh? Usually he wants some kind of reward, an allowance or assurance that sometime in the future he'll be repaid in kind. Not this week though. The best part of all is I think he is really sincere about it. He genuinely seems happy to help.

B. Oh my sweet sweet B knocked it out of the park this week. I was volunteering in L's class and realized about 10:45 that B hadn't called me before snack recess with his number and carb amount for his snack. I was able to sneak out of L's class just before 11 and ran into B's class on their way to get their school pictures taken. "You forgot to call me..." I said. "Nope, I called." said Ben. His teacher backed him up. "I was witness to it, he couldn't get hold of you." (Turns out he called my home number and not my cell, but that's neither here nor there...) "Well what was your sugar?" I inquired. "I was 146, I corrected my self and gave myself 15 carbs for my pringles."

Hold the phone here!
My 7 year old son figured on 15 carbs for his snack. Was the carb number on the packaging...NO!

"How did you know how many carbs to give?" I gawked.

"It just seemed like the right amount."
He was so nonchalant about it...it was ridiculously surreal.

Now Lawton. He has been an alerting machine. He alerted me in L's kindergarten classroom while I was volunteering. "He's all the way across the room," his teacher wondered. "He can smell that far away?" He also alerted us to J's 49 after school yesterday, (which J said he didn't even feel,) AND he woke me up this morning to alert me to B's 55.

Brag Brag Brag...My boys rock.

Wait a minute...did I just do a Thankful Thursday post with out even meaning to? Wow Shamae, I had no idea you were such a big influence on me! :)

Have a wonderful holiday weekend everyone!

If life is like a box of chocolates, why do we always get the coconuts.

Sometimes our family feels like the Forest Gump of diabetes. Everything happens to us. Having a diabetic dilemma? We’ve most likely gone through it. Feeling a new emotion about diabetes? We’ve probably felt it. So it should come as no surprise that our family was visited by the much publicized and dreaded swine flu this summer. We were struck near the end of June, so we are far enough away from the outbreak that I can write about it now. Right after we finished up with treatment I made the mistake of telling a few people that we had it, and let’s just say I didn’t get the warm fuzzies I was hoping for. I know there is a lot of angst in the diabetic community over this flu, so I’m throwing my family under the bus and announcing…WE HAD THE SWINE FLU!

Some of you might have read that J went to scout camp in June with my son M. My husband tagged along for the first few days to settle J in and then returned home on a Wednesday. Friday we picked up the boys, Sunday J and my husband were showing symptoms. Ryan’s stomach was off and J was coughing and also had no interest in eating. By Monday morning they both were in full force. Coughing, sick to their stomachs and fevers of 102. Monday night J complained of a sore throat. It wasn’t until then that I thought it might be THE flu. I looked online for a list of symptoms and sure enough, J had them all! Most people have just one or two of the symptoms, but not my little diabetic.

I called the doctor the next morning. I read that you have 2-3 days from the onset of symptoms to begin the Tamiflu or you are on your own. My doctor and I have a pretty good understanding. He believes everything I tell him and I believe he always has the best interest of my children in mind. (He went to med school with our Endo, so we’re tight.) He said, “If it quacks like a duck and looks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.” The only problem was he was not authorized to prescribe Tamiflu. He needed permission from the head of infectious diseases, and that man was holding onto their supply with an iron fist. He hung up not hopeful we would get any, but promised to call me back. It wasn’t 15 minutes later that he called back with the news…Tamiflu for J! And the cherry on top…Tamiflu for B and L who hadn’t shown any symptoms yet. (Only because they were diabetic. M and my husband and I were left to fend for ourselves.) We picked up the prescriptions and J went in for his swab to see if it in fact was the same kind of flu as the H1N1. By this time he was puking. I cannot tell you how sad a sight it is to see your son in the doctor’s office wrenching over a garbage can. J’s test result came back positive as Influenza A, the same TYPE of flu as the swine flu. They did not go further to send our sample out to confirm it. As the swine flu was so prevalent in our community, if it was deemed Influenza A, then they were 95% sure that is was in fact the swine flu.

J got better just 3 days after he began his Tamiflu. The doctor also gave him anti nausea meds that you put under your tongue which really helped. L and B took their Tamiflu and never got the flu at all. M never got it either. My husband got better in 4 days without meds. I got it right when everyone else started feeling better, and I do not feel melodramatic when I say I almost died from the thing. For some reason I got it 10 times worse than J and my husband.

The first couple days it was just a cough and fever. Totally manageable. But on the forth night I began to go downhill. High fever, constant coughing and the worst part, nausea. I spent the weekend getting worse by the minute and by Monday I was in the most pathetic shape of my life. “Shoot me,” I begged my husband. “Smother me with a pillow…something!” I went to the doctor that morning. It was all a blur. I could barely walk and I was in that place where you feel so miserable it is hard to concentrate on the world around you, kind of’ like a cocoon of misery. Fortunately I have a different health plan than the boys, and this doctor threw the Tamiflu at me even though I had had symptoms for 6 days. (Along with anti-nausea meds, antibiotics for my ear infection and drops for the pain in my ear.) I think I was allergic to one of the meds because my nausea became worse that week. I called the doctor begging him to let me stop taking them, but he insisted I finish my 5 day course. Once I finished it took a couple days, but I began to feel a little better day by day.

The first day I dared venture out of the house to my parents; there was news of a 38 year old man in our county that had died from the flu. He just didn’t wake up one morning. He had asthma when he was a kid and the news touted that as an UNDERLYING condition. I think they just say that to make everyone feel better… everyone but families that do deal with underlying conditions. These families are just left to worry. I really feel like that could have been my name in the headline. I have no UNDERLYING conditions. I think the complications just need the right conditions and that could be anyone. A young teenager died last week in our county. She had surgery on her heart when she was 3 days old, and since has been declared at every doctor appointment to be in perfect health. But when she passed away, the newspapers again shouted, UNDERLYING CONDITIONS. Her family spoke up and said they didn’t think that was fair to say that, and I am thankful to them for doing so.

I always try to end on a positive note. So, on the bright side, we were told that J will probably be immune from the other strains of swine flu that will be coming this fall. Also, because M, B, and L were exposed to it, they may be immune as well. B and L will still be first in line for the vaccine, but there are no promises they will be able to get it. Maybe it was a blessing that we got it in the summer. Maybe we will be spared from the worst of it. I have to feel like we dodged a bullet and just got it over with already. J had 2 really bad days and the rest were no big deal to him. He got through it, and if your diabetic gets it, you will too. It is like any illness; just take it a day at a time.
We will survive!!!!!!

Perspective From The Bathroom Floor.

I hate cleaning toilets. I hate it. I have four boys, ‘nuff said. Their bathroom is reminiscent of urinal meets boys locker room. Probably because my little diabetics wake up throughout the night to pee, and are seriously not in the moment enough to aim properly. It’s a battle I am yet to win, and a Dirty Job Mike Rowe has yet to accept.

So I was cleaning the toilet the other day and had somewhat of an epiphany.
Mundane, arduous tasks are not mundane and arduous when done with the right perspective.

Bear with me here…

As much as I hate cleaning the toilet, (Oh, I loathe it…) yesterday, it was OK. I was happy to. Not that I have come accustomed to the accostment of my five senses…it’s just that I was appreciative of my calling as a mother. I was appreciative that I could clean the toilet, and that I was doing our family a service. (A thankless and cruelly repetitive service, but a service none the less.)

I know…Meri is going to her special place again…but it’s important to note that I came upon this change of perspective after hearing of the untimely death of a close friend last week. His unexpected passing shook my soul to the core. When something like that smacks you out of nowhere, it wakes you up. I was wandering aimlessly in my self-absorbed fog, and now it has lifted. I see things clearer now. I am blessed…so ridiculously overwhelmingly blessed. I have a frustrating life for sure, but this life is so precious.

Perspective. Do you believe in an afterlife? I do. If you do, than it is reasonable to think that our time here on earth is a dot on the big canvas of “life.” If you are one that goes one step further, and believes we are here for a purpose, is that purpose to give up to the fog, or is it to rise above? A diabetic life can suck you into a black hole, a place where we forget to look up and see the beautiful life directly in front of us. The fog, the tsunami, it is all looming this time of year. But for me, for now, the storm clouds are clearing and the sun is shining on my face.

Bring on the toilets...

And as a wise songstress once sang…”Tomorrow’s another day, and I’m thirsty anyway, so bring on the rain!”

See Meri

See Meri's Blood Sugar Monitors.



See Meri’s monitors are dead.



See Meri run to buy batteries.






See Meri roar with anger.






See Meri buy the one and only battery available.



See Meri’s receipt for ONE Battery,



See Meri need’s two batteries…for just one monitor…



See Meri flip out!

A Charlie Brown Day

Picture Charlie Brown...He's got his eye on the football. He is full of optimism and hope. He is sure that this time he will kick that ball to the moon. Holding the ball is Lucy, she is grinning, she is reassuring. She prompts him, "Come on Charlie Brown, you can do it!" And Charlie Brown believes. He runs. He runs as fast as his blessed little legs will take him. Then, with all the force he can muster he takes his leg back to kick....and then Lucy, she snatches that ball away and poor Charlie Brown is left on his back, humiliated.

Picture Meri...she's got her eye on having the best first day of school ever. She is full of optimism and hope. She is sure she will kick that ball to the moon. Holding the ball is the BiG D. He is smiling that stupid grin, he is reassuring. He prompts her, "Come on Meri, we're friends now, you know I won't let you down, you can do it!" And Meri believes. She prepares. She is READY. She runs. She blows full force into a day believing with all her heart that this time she is so prepared that she will kick that ball. SHE WILL KICK THAT BALL'S ARSE! And just as her day begins, the Big D snatches that ball away and Meri is left flat on her back, humiliated.

Today was the big day, the first day of school. I got up early. I showered before I got the boys up. All their clothes were laid out the night before. All their backpacks were ready, lined up at the door. I was ready. I woke up the older three boys. They were eager to start the first day of school. But hold it! What is this?! L won't get out of bed. He is crying, he says he is never getting up. I check his blood sugar and WHAT THE.....??????? He was 469! He needs a new set and there is no time. I gave him a shot and he finally got up 20 minutes before it was time to go. He had his cereal, got dressed and we flew out the door.

Luckily, L's first day of Kindergarten was only 2 hours and I was supposed to attend with him. We had a nice morning together until the parents were to meet in the school garden for 30 minutes while the little ones went outside to play and learn the rules of the playground. I checked Luke's sugar, 155, with a smidgen on board. He'll be fine...Came back from the garden meeting and the kids were walking in from the fun and met on the rug for circle. But what is this? L is not participating. They are supposed to follow her, she is teaching them sign language and he is not signing along. They line up to leave and I wait outside, ready to hug him and congratulate him on his first day. "L! L honey! I'm over here!" He just stared ahead and didn't look at me. I put my arm around him. "Mama, I'm low." Checked his sugar and he was 50. In less than 40 minutes he had dropped 105 pts.

I get home and 1 hour later comes a call from B. Hysterical and crying. He told me his best friends said they didn't like him anymore and that they never want to play with him again. He yelled at them and threatened to hit them. He was on his way to the principals office. My 7 year old son got sent to the Principal's office on the first day of school. I have never had a son sent to the principals office, ever. He did not check his sugar before lunch, and he was higher than normal. (Not that it makes what he did OK.) The thing is, B is the most laid back, happy, nicest kid in the world. And also, we are not a hitting family. The boys very very rarely hit each other, and when they do they get a huge lecture that goes something like, "If you get to hit, your brothers get to hit and Mom and Dad get to hit too. So are we a hitting family or not?" And we are not. Why does he explode at school? Why is he so sensitive there and here at home he has no fear. I know the first day is overwhelming, but it's so Jekyll and Hyde.

Then I got home at 2:30 and filled 4 big packets of emergency forms and registrations for 2 hours. My husband ran to get the scientific calculator and the Spanish to English dictionary that my 9th grader HAD to have at school tomorrow. B had swimming at 4:30. L had soccer at 5:00. J and M had scouts at 7:00. In between we had dinner at my in laws. Turkey and Mashed potatoes. Comfort food! God bless my mother in law! I had two helpings and didn't even care I was blowing my diet.

So, now I am home, regrouping.

I cried 3 times today. Tomorrow I am aiming for 1. A girl's gotta have goals. And as for Big D. I'm not even aiming for the ball tomorrow...I'm aiming for him.

Fighting the Funk

When it rains, it pours.

Why isn’t it ever just one? One diabetic that is out of whack. Why is it that all three of my diabetics need basal adjustments just a couple days before school starts? Why is it that B is waking up in the 60’s every morning no matter what I do? (Sigh) CURSE THESE DIABETES INIGMAS!

I’m riding a low, and I am constantly asking myself why I feel this way. Am I overwhelmed? I don’t think so. Am I over my head? Maybe. Is being over my head the same thing as being overwhelmed, and I’m just in denial? I think mostly it’s that old diabetic adage (that probably goes something like…,) “The minute you got it figured out, the very next minute diabetes kicks you in the arse.”

Why is B waking up low every morning?

Why is L going low before lunch all of a sudden?

Why is J going low after dinner every night?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

I’ll roll back the basal rates, but these lows are coming out of nowhere. No changes have been made to make them happen. They haven’t happened all summer. Why the week before school?

Why does diabetes hate me? I play nice. I appreciate that my children lead semi-normal lives. I appreciate that I wouldn’t trade our disease with someone else’s. I appreciate the blessings in our lives.

You know what the crazy part is? I made an oath, (see a couple posts ago,) not to get overwhelmed this year with the Diabetes Blues. I promised myself a new outlook and I have adopted it with open arms. I am hardly nervous of school starting, because I know it will all work out.

So why the pity party? Why? Why? Why? Why?

I so need to get out of this funk! It is ridiculous! It is silly! It is pathetic! (If I scream it loud enough will my brain listen?)

I can do this…I just needed to get it out of my brain and down on (virtual) paper... Admitting I feel like I’m in the crapper is the first step…now onto the next step! No idea what the next step is…but I’m going to call it progress just wanting to know what it is.

And that’s not all…!!!

Thanks to all my blog world friends for your gracious and supportive comments in regards to Lawton. To be honest, I don’t think I would have been so nice. If I were in your situation my comment would have read, “NO FAIR! I‘M TOTALLY NOT READING YOUR BLOG ANYMORE UNTIL I GET ONE!!!!” But, because all of you have such nice manners, I thought I should respond in kind with answers to your questions about Lawton.

I was asked if Lawton goes to school with the boys. The Dogs4Diabetics rules state a child must be 12 years old to handle a dog in public. J will be 12 in November and will be able to take Lawton if he wishes. My quandary is, if J takes Lawton to school EVERY day, Lawton may become more attached to J than the other boys, and may decide to alert only on him. Also, L will be home at 12:00 and I will need Lawton around for him. (He’s my youngest and most unpredictable.) We have decided that Lawton will go to school with J when he has a bad night of lows or highs, on a day where I am not sure what his blood sugars will do. Also, I need Lawton on alert at night. He usually sleeps while the boys are at school, this way he is not so out of it at night when I really need him. I don’t know what I’ll do when the boys get older. I am hoping to send Lawton to college with J. Hopefully D4D will take pity on me and offer me two more dogs.

Another question was, does D4D give dogs to people out of state? Sadly, no. They only work with people who live in the area so they can attend the weekly classes in Concord. The good news is that they are hoping to expand soon, throughout the United States and up into Canada. Right now they are focusing on getting the program just right so that the new programs will have the best possible plan to follow.

Lastly, how does Lawton alert? Lawton came to us with a long strap that was hanging down from his collar called a bringsle. When he alerted he was supposed to put this strap in his mouth to alert us. Lawton on the other hand had other ideas. When he alerts he sits directly in front of me and sits. He cocks his ears and stares at me intensely and then yawns. If the child that is going low is in the room he will glance at them and then back to me. If I ignore him he will put his head on my lap. Unfortunately, all Lawton cares about is his treat, so he rarely lets me know which one is going low. He alerts, watches me check the boys and then runs to the fridge to get his treat. It's all a game to him. With more training he will let me know which one is in need, but actually more often than not, it is more than one boy who is dropping. (If I over bolus for a food, they usually all eat the same thing, hence they all get too much insulin and they all go low.)

Also, a request for pictures…



Oh yeah! He is very handsome. When he is out in public and we give him commands we call him Lawton, but at home we call him Lala. He likes to sleep on our feet, he sits with his head on the bottom of my bed every morning until I get up and feed him, and he sometimes gets bad gas. Fortunately, that's the worst of it. He really is a perfect dog.

Introducing..."The Dog Lady."

I don’t exactly know why I haven’t written about this before. I think it’s because I didn’t want to be known as “the dog lady,” but leaving out this huge part of my life any longer seems dishonest, so I’m coming right out with it.

We have a diabetic service dog, and he is the most amazing animal on God’s green earth.

There, I said it. I have a secret weapon, a cheat sheet if you will, and he has completely changed our lives.

I applied for the Dogs4Diabetics program on a whim 2 ½ years ago, during Christmas. It is based in Concord, California about an hour and a half from where we live. I knew there was a long waiting list, but hey, I had 2 diabetics at the time, that had to count for something. Miraculously we heard back right away. A few more applications and a few months later we were in.

The expectation of the program was that we were to attend the training meetings every Tuesday night and the first Sunday of every month until they found the right dog for our family. Generally it took from 6 months to 2 years to be placed with a dog. During our training period we would work extensively with service dogs and learn how to properly handle them.

Dogs4Diabetics was founded by a Type 1 man who is a higher up for Guide Dogs for the Blind. While he was on a business trip, a dog he was traveling with woke him up from a severe low in his hotel room. Shortly after, he began working with dogs that for various reasons did not make the guide dog program, and career changed them as a medical alert dog for diabetics. Part of the training included hiding a small swath that was rubbed with the scent of a diabetic going low. They would hide the swath and the dogs would get a treat if they found it. Once the dog recognized the scent, it was fairly easy to apply it to a human, because when we go low our entire body exudes the scent. It is a very powerful scent to a dog.

B was diagnosed a few months after we started the program. B adjusted beautifully to his new life, especially due to the fact that this dog we were working so hard to get would indeed be his too. I on the other hand spiraled into a deep depression. It lasted almost 5 months, 3 diabetics, school starting, diabetic dog training…it was too much diabetes. It was about 10 months after we started the program that I considered stopping. I was too overwhelmed and tired. I knew it would take a super special dog to be able to work with my family and I was losing hope. Just then they handed us the leash of a beautiful yellow lab named Lawton. They said, “We want you to work only with this guy for a little while, let’s see if there is chemistry” They had us train with him for a few months and one day we received an email that we would be able to take him home and see if he would be the right fit for our family.

FEAR- we could take him home on a trial basis, what if he didn’t alert? What if it didn’t work out? The boys would be DEVESTATED!

Lawton came home with us in March of 2008. He woke me up the first night he was with us to alert us on a low. We graduated from the program in October 2008 and Lawton is now part of the family. He goes everywhere with us. In public, when he has his jacket on, he is the perfect dog; Head down and very serious. At home is his a goofball, leaping around the house like Bambi and taunting the boys with his toys. For the boys, he takes away all that is bad about Diabetes. In public and at school they happily answer questions about what Lawton does and are very proud they we are a family worthy of Lawton’s love.

And for me, Lawton has changed everything. For the first time in 10 years, I can sleep. He wakes me if there is a problem and alerts a couple times a day. He catches lows that I NEVER would have dreamed of, and better yet he often alerts me when the boys are dropping, before they hit the scary number. He has put the boys in a box of how they are supposed to smell, and if they go too low, or even too high, he alerts. He is my miracle. I still do all the work, I don’t check the kids less because he is here and night time checks are still a must. But, I for sure have a back up and a piece of mind that was not there before. He alerts me to about 95% of the boys lows.

Dogs4Diabetics is a non-profit. We were asked to pay a small application fee, (I don’t remember, I think it was $50.) and we were asked to buy a couple books, a treat bag, and a doggy first aid kit. We were not asked to pay a penny more for Lawton. He is easily worth $50,000 and he was just given to us. They also gave us his bed, bowls, flea and heartworm meds for the first few months, and toys. The people behind the program only want the best dog for your family and are very careful who they partner you up with. Many of them worked full time for years without pay to get this program off the ground.

I am in debt to the wonderful people at D4D. I wish I could clone Lawton and send a copy of him out to every diabetic in the world.

There you go, I am not super woman. I have serious help. Between Lawton (who alerted us 5 times yesterday,) my husband’s parents (who feed us 3 times a week,) my parents (who have us over every Friday,) and my sister in law (who happily babysits my 4 boys and the dog anytime,) I am spoiled rotten.

My Angel Story

Gosh, after my last post I feel like such a downer. There are so many good people in this world that have done so much for us!

So today I want to share a story of hope. An experience I had that helped me through one of my darkest times.

It was less than two months after J was diagnosed and I was a complete Zombie. Tired, worried, scared. It was such a hard time. J was on a “long acting” insulin, (the name of it escapes me right now.) We had to give him a “light” ½ unit twice a day. Measuring a “light” ½ unit is almost impossible in a needle, and who knows how much of it he actually got. His short acting was an insulin called Regular. It was diluted in a bottle 5 parts saline to one part insulin. He also would get very tiny amounts of this. Needless to say, we never knew what his blood sugars were going to do. His long acting did not peak in adults, but it peaked in J. His short acting would peak 2 hours after we gave it to him, so we would have to predict what he was going to eat. (Which, of course, was impossible with a 9 month old.) We were never sure when a low would occur at night, so I would check every couple hours to be sure.

There was one night in particular that was extra rough. He needed food, then extra insulin, then more food. He was extra restless and he and I cried most the night together. Each time I tried to sleep I would say a silent prayer, a prayer I had said a hundred times before, “Lord, please have the angels watch out for J while I sleep, and have them wake me if I am needed. “ That night I couldn’t help but wonder if angels were real, or a wonderful fantasy I simply hoped for. I prayed for an answer, but was left to wonder. Between my alarms and J’s crying I was woken plenty that night. I must have sung him his lullaby a dozen times. (Each of my boys had their own lullaby. J’s happened to be one I learned from a college roommate.) It goes like this:

You came from a land where all is bright

To a world half day and a world half night

To guide you by day, you have my love

To guard you by night, your friends above.

So sleep…sleep…till the darkness ends, guarded by your angel friends.

Yes sleep…sleep…till the darkness ends, guarded by your angel friends.

There is one stands softly by your bed,

and another sits close, with her hand on your head.

There’s one at the window watching for the dawn,

and one waits to wake you when the night is gone.

By morning I was exhausted and too tired to make breakfast. All I could think about was downing one of my husband’s lovely doughnuts. I packed up the boys and headed for our bakery. Before I could make it to my husband’s arms, or a doughnut for that matter, I was stopped by Alice, (Not her real name.) She was so happy to see me; she wasn’t expecting I’d be in that day. She had a dream, a vivid dream, and she knew she had to share it with me.

Alice had a brother who had passed away somewhat recently. He was a young husband and father and of course very missed. In her dream she was working the counter at the bakery as usual when she noticed that it was pitch black outside. She was confused at how she could have worked so far into the night and went into the back to get her sweater and purse and close up. While in the back she heard the bell on the bakery door ring. She ran out to tell the customer she had closed. Lo and behold it was her brother, with his finger to his lip, shushing her. In his arms was a baby, and as he got closer she realized it was J sleeping soundly. “Would you walk home with me?” She asked her brother. “Sorry sis,” he said pointing to J. “I’m on duty until morning.” And with that he gave her a wink and walked out.

Well there you go…my perfectly lovely, and perfectly true, angel story. I know it is sometimes so lonely to be the mother of a diabetic. We aim for perfection and feel as though the world is on our shoulders. The thing is, I feel really strongly that if we try to be perfect we will always fail. We weren’t made to be perfect, just human. All we can do is TRY our very best, LOVE our very best, HOPE our very best, and ENDURE our very best. God will make up the rest.

Our 11th Anniversary...Woo...Hoo... :(

So many. So many babies being diagnosed. It is breaking my heart. It’s hard enough to have a child diagnosed, but a baby with Type 1 is just a different world. They cannot communicate to you and tell you how they feel. They can be incredibly hungry from a low and all they can do is cry. They can have an awful headache from a high, and all they can do is cry. It is sometimes such an impossible situation.

I was there. 11 years ago today J was diagnosed at the tender age of 8 months. The helicopter took him away and my husband and I followed it in the car to the hospital. When we finally got there he was laying in a hospital bed, swallowed up by the enormity of it all. He was wide awake when I walked into his private ICU room. He looked at me and said his first word, Mama… his little voice cracking from dryness. We met with the endocrinologist on call and he gave us our first lesson on diabetes. He said, “Having a baby with diabetes is like asking you to run a marathon you haven’t trained for…uphill.” But in the same breath, he promised us the world. He said there would probably be a cure in 5-10 years, that J would lead a normal life, and that we would leave the hospital EXPERTS on diabetes with complete instructions on how to care for J. The catch was, after this on call endo left, another endo never came calling, and this hospital had dealt very little with type 1, much less a baby.

We were put in the hands of a nutritionist who knew diabetes mostly from a Type 2 perspective. For the purpose of this post, I’ll call her Wacko. She immediately commanded me to give J half of the formula I was feeding him at the time, and more meat. Lots of jars of plain meat. HELLO! J hated meat jars of baby food. (Don’t all babies?) She forbade me to feed him fruit jars and said vegetables were fine, as long as he had a shot after each jar. The woman really was a wacko. You can’t tell a baby, “Hey honey, you are going to eat half as much as you were before, and meat galore!” I think it is a good time to note as well that J, because of the ketoacidosis, was about 15 pounds when first brought in. The last thing he needed was less formula. To top it off, Wacko the Nutritionist actually yelled at me twice. Once because she came in and J had only eaten half of his jar of meat. (The kid was gagging for goodness sake!) And another time because I was feeding him his formula a half an hour earlier then she had scheduled. (Reality check, babies make their own schedules.)
Unfortunately, our only education was a book Wacko gave me. She said I couldn’t leave the hospital until I read the first 7 chapters and that there would be a test. (Liar! She never even looked to see if I opened the book.) J was there about a week and then they just sent us home. No sliding scale and absolutely no idea what we were doing. I asked the nurse how we were supposed to know how much insulin to give him and she said, “Call your pediatrician.” Our one saving grace was the social worker. She pulled us aside before we left and confided in us she was just filling in here and that UCSF was much better equipped to help us with J. She promised to try to get approval from our insurance to move us there. One week of 5 phone calls a day to J’s pediatrician, and Ryan and I were about to lose it. My sweet pediatrician was Indian with a very thick accent. It was so hard to understand what he was saying and he freely admitted to us that he was guessing and we needed a specialist. Then the call came, UCSF was approved, and our life changed…for the better.

They said, “Forget everything they have told you. Your baby eats what he wants, when he wants, and we will make the insulin work around that.” AHHH, nirvana! They had a full diabetic friendly team at our beckon call, and they had worked with a few other babies before. They immediately changed both the long and the short acting insulin and we left that office on a high from relief.

What is the moral of the story? It is okay to go endo shopping. It is okay to look around and find someone who you trust. Yes, 11 years ago our new endo fell into our laps and that was nothing less than a miracle. One of the biggest lessons I have learned over the last 11 years is we need to fight for what is best for our children. You are not stuck with what you are given. And if your doctor says something you are not sure about, it is ok to speak up and say, “Whoa! Why are you doing this? Why is this change being made?” My endo freely admits that I know what is going on better than she, and before she makes changes she asks me what I think. Yes, she knows more than I do, but I am included. If I think a change needs to be made, and she doesn’t, she EXPLAINS why. If you do not have a voice… talk to your doctors and tell them how you feel. If that doesn’t work, go shopping for a new one.

You will meet many doctors, regular doctors and specialists, that have no idea what to do with your child. Speak up. When your child is in the ER with an ear infection and they want to take away your insulin control of your child, and you don’t want them to, don’t let them! They have NO IDEA! I will check my child’s sugar; I will give him his insulin. I have taught many nurses in my day how to use a glucometer. Case and point: J had the stomach flu when he was 3 and ended up in the ER because he couldn’t keep anything down. He needed fluid through an IV. When he was admitted I told them, “He needs insulin now, he has ketones.” They told me, he didn’t need insulin, only fluids. They said the fluids will dilute the sugar and he’ll be fine. I put my foot down, “Uh, no, he needs fluids and insulin.” They came back with a syringe with 10 units of insulin in it, the nurse was just about to give it to him when I jumped up and said, “What is in that syringe?” When she told me they almost had to call security. J had never had more than 3 units of insulin in his life. They finally got hold of my endo and were told, step back, you hydrate him and Mom will take care of the diabetes.

Okay, disclaimer. Yes, listen to your doctor, but if another doctor wants to take over, make sure they talk to your endo first. I am not advocating doing your own thing no matter what the doc says… I am advocating communication. And of course, don’t quit an endo until you have interviewed and found someone better qualified and who has agreed to take you on.

As mothers of diabetics we need to take ownership of the fact that we live and breathe these children’s insulin and carb intakes. We can’t let anyone take us out of the picture.

I don’t know where this is all coming from, but I just feel like it had to be said. God bless all of you mothers, with Type 1 babies, and with Type 1 children. It’s not easy, but with each day we grow stronger. I used to hate it when people would say how strong I am, but you know what…I am strong, I am surviving, and I am stronger today than I was 11 years ago.

I don’t know how this soap box suddenly appeared, but I am stepping off now.

Does anyone know of a support group for people who don’t know how to write short posts?

Endo Endo Bo Bendo...

Endo endo bo bendo, Banana fanna fo fendo, fe fi fo mendo….endo!

The Name Game! Come on, you’ve heard of it before! It makes everything sound so much nicer.

Needles needles bo beedles, banana fanna fo feedles, me my mo meedles…needles!

Maybe. Maybe I am crazy…

Yesterday was the big day…Our Endo appointment in San Francisco. I bathed the kids, made an early lunch and packed up J, B , L and the dog and headed out for the hour drive. My sweet sister in law came along to help keep the kids corralled. She is always there for me and I appreciate and love her more than she’ll ever know…but don’t be fooled by her sweet smile and helpful attitude…my sweet SIL comes with a catch. She doesn’t let me worry out loud. I began to talk about all the things I did wrong last month, and what the Endo was going to say… because I already knew…and she cut me off mid sentence and THREW our family motto in my face. “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” I tried a couple more times to lament and she wouldn’t have any of it. “Meri, they love you there, they never say anything bad to you, and it will be fine!” So I changed the subject and we meandered our way through the freeway.

When we got to the tunnel, I held my breath and made my customary wish…”Please let their A1C’s be lower than I think they are.” (HEY! Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it!) We hit stopped traffic right before the Golden Gate Bridge because some insane people were parachuting next to the bridge to promote a cell phone company. Then we went up Divisidero street, (which scares the pants off me when I drive it because it is as steep as Mt Everest,) we passed the Walgreens my sister in law made an emergency run into when L peed his pants a couple years ago, and then made it to the Medical Building with 10 minutes to spare.

I should probably confess that I know that my sweet SIL is right; they do love me at the endo. Partly because J was my doctors first endo patient as a Fellow, partly because I have three diabetics and they feel sorry for me, and partly because we are usually on the same page and agree on most everything. Sometimes I feel like they see how fragile I am, so they sugar coat everything so that I won’t crack and have a breakdown in their office. I made a mental note yesterday to tell them to give it to me straight… how bad of a mom am I really? But in my heart I knew they would NEVER make me feel bad, no matter how hard I prodded. Going to my endo is always like having a family reunion. My endo always comes out to hug us before our appointment. (We’ve known each other 11 years and in that time she met her husband, married him and had two kids.) The nurses, the nutritionists, the social workers and receptionists all gathers round and chat. We talk about how big the kids have grown and reminisce. They take in each boy one at a time and do their work so they don’t mix them up, (which has happened before,) and then we meet with our team of people.

So then the big announcement…L’s A1C is 7.1 (I’ll take it!) J’s A1C is 7.2 (SOLD!) B’s A1C was 7.9…..GONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!Bad mom!!!!BAD MOM ALERT!!!!

WAIT! Rewind a little…not bad mom because of the number…it is what it is and it’s really fine to me, I know B needed changes and I will move forward with our changes and improve it….It is just…

7.1 and 7.2 are here………………………………………………………………………………………and 7.9 is over here.

Fast forward to my dream/nightmare last night when B asked me, “Mom, why don’t you love me as much as J and L? Why do they have better numbers than me?” (Reminder, he didn’t really say that, it was a dream,) but the sick self deprecating hallucination stayed with me this morning. So, I made B his favorite breakfast, hugged him a few extra times and now I plan to let it go.

Guilt guilt bo built, banana fanna fo filt, me my mo milt…Guilt!

Tsunami

It's coming...I can feel it. The new school year tsunami of emotion. It happens every year, and the sad part is I am aware of it. I KNOW that the depression and overwhelmingness of diabetes is coming, and I don't stop it. I see it on the horizon and I anticipate its coming and washing over me.

Shhh...do you hear it? The wave will toss my life up and down and...I will let it happen.

Or can I stop it?

Every year I spend weeks convincing the teachers that all will be okay. But you know what I have decided? I won't do it this year. I am tired of babying them and reassuring them. I am tired of going on every single field trip because, "It will make them fell better." I am tired of getting frantic calls from the office because my child is 300.

I have thought long and hard and this year I have decided I will give them only the information they NEED to know. They do not need to know that my target for the boys at school is the 100's. All they need to know is if they are under 100 they need an extra snack. Everything above it the insulin can fix. A 360 is not an emergency. My boys call me at snack and at lunch. If a number pops up in between that isn't perfect, that is okay. They are growing boys, they WILL NOT have perfect numbers everyday.

I know my boys get the best care. I know my boys a1c's have been amazing. I know that we are only doing the best we can. I won't let them get me down. They can judge me if they want...but the truth is,...(wait until you hear this epiphany,) I don't even really know that they are judging me. It has occurred to me that maybe, all this feeling like a bad mom when the school calls, is all my own heads doing. I have told them in the past that I want the boys in the low 100's. Maybe it isn't their fault they freak out when a high number pops up.

Could the tsunami originate from me? Can I stop it? Can I change my perspective this year?

I opened a fortune cookie the other day, and it may hold the answer. It said...

"We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails."

Maybe there is another way to navigate these fierce winds...maybe I can steer clear of the tsunami...It won't be easy, but I can feel my sails adjusting as I write this and it feels good.

The Pharmacy

They don't like me at the pharmacy and really, I don't blame them. To be honest, I don't like them either. I think the main reason I am so bothersome to them is that I hold up lines with my big order. Three times insulin. Three times test strips. Three times glucagon. USUALLY what happens is I put in my order and the pharmacist is smart enough to see that all the boys use the exact same things. He USUALLY fills one boys complete order and then mails the other two boys. To his credit, it is a fast and smart solution to my family prescription needs.

Well, smart pharmacist must have been on vacation yesterday. Because not so bright pharmacist gave me a little something for each boy and then said I could come back tomorrow for the rest.

"Sorry, I won't be coming back tomorrow, I would like it mailed to me."

The counter lady scrunched her face. "They don't mail insulin in this hot weather."

Me, (scrunching my face back,) "Well, it has never been a problem before." (And mind you, it was a balmy 72 degrees where I live yesterday.)

"Well I guess I can do it, but I'll have to COMPLETELY redo what they typed up in the back. I'll have to do each boys individually, it will take awhile."

"I'll wait."

I could hear the groan of the people behind me. There was only two people at the counter and a long line of 15-20 people.

While she redid the prescriptions, she gave me a big lecture on how I should "phone in" my prescriptions. "Phone in when you have 10 days left of your supply. It is very inconvienient for us when you come in and take up all our supply...blah blah blah, don't come here...blah blah blah."

"The boys all use the same stuff." I explain. "We have it all over, at our house, at the in-laws, at school, in sports bags, in the car. When I exhaust all my resourses and all my different stashes are out, I come here to get more."

"Well if you would just call it in when you have 10 days left, it would be easier for us."

So I say, "Ya, good idea." (She wasn't getting it, so why explain again.) But in an effort to be agreeable, I suggested that it would be helpful for me to know how many month supply they are giving me. Then I can put on my calender when to call.

"It doesn't say here."

"Really? Because sometimes I come and they tell me I am like 10 days too early to refill a prescription. It must give you some idea how often I can refill."

"You know better than us how much you use in a month." (Is this lady for real?)

"It's all a blur to me. It should be in your computer. If you want me to call it in, I need to know if your giving me a 2 month, or 3 month supply."

She scrunched her face again..."I can probably figure it out, but it will take awhile."

"I'll wait."

I looked out the window. I refused to look at the line behind me. Oh, they wanted me to look. I could hear their groans and quiet complaints to the people around them. FOREVER LATER, She had me all bagged up in a giant handled white paper bag. I took a deep breath and turned around. Everyone eyed me and gave me the dirty looks of exasperation. I held my head up high and began to walk out. Just before I got to the exit, an elderly lady actually SCOWLED at me. I mean evil eye, lips curled, scowl. I almost walked past her but my chest was burning from anger. I turned to her and held up my bag.

"Just be glad you're not me lady."

When I got home I found that they only gave me ONE vile of insulin. (Seriously.) That will last me 5 days. Will the mailed insulin come before I run out? Will I have to go back? Wait a minute...I have less than a 10 day supply...maybe I'll call it in!

40, I Won't Say It's Bad...It's Just REALLY Not Good.

Last night my husband and I did our 10:00 blood sugar check and L was 40. My husband checked him and the fear in his voice caught me off guard. "L is 40, Meri! L is 40!" It has been so long since we've seen a number as low as that. I scanned the kitchen. "Meri he still has insulin on board too! Quick." What do I feed him? What do I have? The things I have for lows didn't seem fast acting enough. I froze in the middle of the kitchen, closing my eyes, making mental pictures of what was inside the cupboards. Luckily I remembered my husband had bought me some orange juice as a special treat. (We never have juice on hand, it's too tempting for the little ones.) I woke L and encouraged him to drink. He was so out of it, it took forever, but he finished it and a little snack after.

I know all of us in this community handle this situation all the time. But it has been so long for us...50's and 60's, sure, but 40? That is just one away from 39. It just reminds me how real it all is, the danger and the fear. In my last post I wrote, "It is what it is...just a number." I would like to add little footnote, "Unless it is 40."

Set up to fail

Sometimes I am convinced the cosmos have put me in a lose-lose situation. With three active boys with Type 1 Diabetes it is generally all but impossible to get all of them to have numbers in range. Inevidably, one of them is too high or too low. I am set up to fail. And honestly, it used to get me down...really, really down. I would wallow in the self pity of bad momdom, and think that I am a failure as a mother. I would think that I let them down, and agonize over the thought that their future health lay in my hands alone. Night time sugar checks became the bane of my existance. "Who will I let down tonight," I would think.

Then last summer something happened to change my way of thinking. We were at Diabetes Family camp and J came up to me and said he needed to talk. He had a counciling session with his group, and his councilor told him he needed to talk to me about his feelings. He said, "Mom, I feel like whenever I check my sugar and the number isn't in range, I let you down. I see the look on your face and it makes me feel awful. I hate it when I disappoint you with bad numbers."

HUH?

All those times when J would check his sugar I was feeling awful that I was letting him down. And for years he took that as I was disapointed in him, when truely I was disapointed in myself. I had to convice J that I NEVER was disapointed in him, and actually had always been proud of the way he's handled his diabetes. It wasn't long before we decided that we were in this together and both of us were doing the best we could. From then on there were no more bad numbers. They were all good because they gave us the information we needed to fix the situation.

Do I have bad days? Yes. Sometimes it's like it is all out of control and I feel like crawling in a cave. When it gets that way I call my endo, who obvioiusly I have a close relationship with, and say, "Help me fix this." I usually change basel rates on my own, but I have learned to recognize that sometimes I am too overwhelmed to figure it out by myself. Now, when that 400 pops up I can say, "Fix it." and forget about it. It is what it is...a number. And I am thankful for those numbers, good and bad. Without them I would be like those parents long ago who had to wake their children at night and see how hard they squeezed their hand.

 I think not knowing at all is scarier than a 400.

Diabetes vs. Cancer

I'm not going to lie. I would get irritated beyond belief when they would close down streets and bridges in San Francisco for the Cancer and AIDS walks. Not that they didn't deserve to have bridges and streets shut down for them, but merely for the fact that our Walk to Cure Diabetes was held in Crissy field, far away from traffic and news cameras. I would think, "Why can't we stop traffic? Why can't we get in the worlds face and say CURE THIS DISEASE?" When I would walk, I would wonder why am I going through these motions when it isn't causing the world to see? Isn't that the reason for these walks? To band together and say, "Look at us, Diabetes is stupid and we can cure it if more people cared!" And I would stupidly think to myself, "At least there are cures for cancer..."

And then this year my husband got cancer.

And the Lord has once again opened my eyes to see; I can handle diabetes every day this year. I could not handle cancer every day this year. Cancer is scary and horrible and deserves to stop traffic. Yes there are cures, but they are maybe cures, everything is, "we'll see..." and percentages. "Yes, there is a 60% chance that you are cured, but who knows where you will fall, only time will tell." It is a terrible place to be.

My children can run. My children can go to scout camp. My children have the world at there fingertips. Many of those with cancer can't think about tomorrow because they are too busy thinking about getting through the next hour. Don't get me wrong. Diabetes still sucks. My sweet little boys put up with so much and endure more than I will ever truly understand, and I adore them for it. But now, I don't mind so much when I see the crying faces of the Avon Cancer Walkers on TV. In fact, I cry with them, and I feel for them. Walk on sisters.

Diabetic Independence: Is he ready?

I just sent my 11 year old son off to scout camp for a week and I am a wreck. My husband will be staying with him for the first few days to get him settled in, but he'll be there three days after that alone...counting carbs by himself, remembering to bolus by himself, being responsible by himself...I'm not ready for it. I'm crying as I write this and I know that I am an idiot. J has been dealing with this for 10 of his 11 years of life, he knows what to do and he can handle it. My brain is so reasonable, it can give me millions of reasons why he is ready for this, but my heart is breaking. I AM NOT READY! As I was packing him up last night I was only regretting my encouragement for him to attend. Why did I encourage him? A week ago I had my husband almost agreeing with me that it is too soon, and he shouldn't be going to camp at all. But then the brain steps in...We have been letting J get out of way too many things because of his diabetes. It's not an excuse anymore. He needed to go. But again, I am not ready. He knows what to do, but will he be responsible enough to remember? My only saving grace is that he is usually really good about knowing when he is low. But will he know that he is low when he is swimming in the middle of the lake? If I were a betting woman I would bet he comes back just fine. But again, that is my brain, not my heart. My heart worries and aches for their absence. I totally give myself good mommy points for totally playing it cool when he left. He had no idea all morning that I was dying with worry inside. I played it like a pro until they were just walking out the door and J saw a tear in the corner of my eye. He gave me a kiss and said, "Don't be sad Mom, It'll be fun." It's too bad no one knows this blog exists except for me. I could use some love.

Why Minimed is far superior to Animas

I am no technology geek, but I am a Mom who has worked with both Minimed and Animas pumps. Unfortunately, my youngest was so little when he was diagnosed that the Animas was our only option at the time, as Minimed pumps did not deliver small enough increments of insulin. I don't want to seem ungratful for how the Animas pump has helped our lives, it was certainly better than no pump at all, but given a choice, I would pick a Minimed any day of the week. Below, please find a list of things that bug the heck out of me about Animas pumps...

1. It delivers the insulin too fast. Slower delivery allows the insulin to absorb properly into your site. Fast shots of insulin creates "Pooling" and sometimes the insulin does not fully absorb.

2. The buttons you need to push to give yourself insulin is ridiculous. (1)Ok to open screen, (2)Ok to open menu, (3)Ok to bolus, (4)scroll down to carb smart. (5) Ok to open carb screen. (5)arrow up to open carbs. (6)Ok to enter carbs, (7)Ok to add blood glucose #, (8)Scroll up to enter BG, (9)Ok to enter BG, (10) Ok to show result, (11)Scroll up to manually enter the number of units the pump tells you to give, (12)Ok to enter number. (13)Ok to Go and actually deliver the insulin. INSANE! Compared to Minimed's 6 buttons. Bottom line, young children cannot give themselves insulin with it, as compared to my 5 year old excelling on the Minimed pump.

3. When you replace the battery, a full rewind is required. Which requires many more buttons to push and an alertness that is not always available 1:30 in the morning.

4. Changing reservoirs and sets takes far less time on a Minimed than an Animas. The Animas sets are hard to work with, luckily you can use Minimed quick sets with the Animas pumps.

5. The black cap would often come loose and we would get the infamous "Pump is not primed,no delivery" message. Which again, requires many more buttons to push to fix, including priming and sometimes a full rewind.

6. The customer service at Minimed is quicker and more efficient than Animas. We broke a Minimed pump once at 8:00 on a Friday night and the new pump was at my house by 11:00am the next morning. Once an Animas pump broke and we had to wait 3 days for a replacement.

We were blessed to receive a Minimed pump for our youngest yesterday. Now the three pumps will be the same, making life easier for us and our extended family who work with the boys pumps as well. L has officially given himself his first bolus, (supervised of course,) and it is such a relief for all of us. J is elated that he can now help L give himself insulin, and I am elated too, my life just got a little easier, and that is nothing but a miracle.